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characters are the property of Paramount/Viacom. No copyright infringement
is intended, and no financial profit is anticipated.

Summary: Picard and
Q witness an encounter between Janeway and her Borg.

Warning: Moderate
BDSM.

Notes: This story
is a segment that began on alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated in 1998.
The concept, which was invented by Ruth Gifford, was that Picard and Q
would be watching various pairings of Star Trek characters having
sex. The first segment, which provided the set up, was written by
Robin Lawrie, and it is that which is quoted between the rows of asterisks
and which I included to provide context for my segment. The reference
to Tom Paris is an allusion to Jane St. Clair's segment.

`So you're saying that
watching these situations is apleasurable experience
of itself? And the viewer is satisfiedand almost sated, by having
their expectations fulfilled. Oooo,I knew there was a reason
why television was so popular. I liketo watch. But now you're
saying that real life is even better?This I've got to see.'

Picard leaned back against
the lounge, his shoulder touchingQ's. He reached over and
grabbed the cornchips, and stuffeda handful into his mouth.
Talking around the crunchymouthful, spraying crumbs
over his uniform Picard replied,

"So, Johnny," purred Q,
"any requests? I have any number of locations on my agenda, but I'm
happy to accomodate any particular curiosity you have."

"I . . . " began Picard
and stopped.

"What is it, Jean-Luc?"
asked the entity, sliding a hand up Picard's arm. "What has caught
your fancy? You can tell me. It's not like I'm
going to be shocked. Go on, spit it out!"

"That Borg woman, Seven
of Nine . . . and Kathryn Janeway. How did that turn out?
Do they always have a threesome going with Lieutenant Paris? Did
Seven turn out the way Janeway wanted?"

"So many questions, Jean-Luc!
Such unseemly prurient interest in a fellow officer."

Picard raised his eyebrows
in exasperation. "Q, it's a little late for you to be worrying about
that."

"I'm hardly worried, mon
Capitaine. I'm enjoying this immensely. Yes, why don't we go
see what dear Kathryn and her ample-bosomed Borg are up to. I suspect
we'll all be in for a surprise."

Picard found himself and
Q sitting on a bleacher-like structure in a holodeck, surrounded by the
holo-grid. Seven of Nine was firing at a small hovering and swooping
disk. She missed, and the disk swerved toward Janeway, who dove into
a tuck and roll, coming up firing. Picard was grinning. "I
can't remember the last time I played Velocity," he said. "I was
damned good."

"Really?" said Q drily.
"What a surprise." He materialized a bag of popcorn, passing it to
Picard.

Picard took a handful and
grimaced. "Q, this is dripping with butter. Don't you
worry you'll lose your girlish figure?"

Q laughed heartily.
"Oh, Johnny, you are such a delight when you loosen up a little."

"Do they play often?" asked
Picard, turning his attention back to the women, who were concentrating
fiercely on their target, arms outstretched, gripping the phaser with both
hands. Tendrils of hair were escaping from Seven's tight coif, and
both women's faces and arms betrayed a light sheen of sweat.

"High stakes, indeed,"
replied Q, "now be quiet and watch. The good part is coming up, and
I don't want to miss it." Q turned back to watch the game, while
casually resting a buttery hand on Picard's thigh, his fingers straying
over the bulge between the Captain's legs. Picard jumped, but decided
he didn't object to the stimulation.

Both contestants were breathing
harder. Janeway fired and missed, and Seven whirled, aiming and firing,
hitting the target, which collided with Janeway's arm. The computer
intoned, "Final round to Seven of Nine. Winner, Seven of Nine."

Both women looked stunned,
then Seven said slowly, "I won." A smile began to spread on her face.
"I won."

She advanced on Janeway,
grabbing her wrists and forcing her to drop the phaser. "Sev-en .
. . " the captain said warningly.

Seven lifted an eyebrow.
"Captain, I won. You knew I would win some day. You encouraged
me to practice. I think you wanted this."

"Yes, Captain, I believe
you are," said the Borg, as she whipped around behind Janeway and grasped
the captain's shoulders. Her hands slid slowly down Janeway's arms,
until she was grasping her wrists behind her back. Seven's free hand
wove itself into the captain's short hair, pulling her head back.

"Here, Seven?" asked
the captain.

"Why not? I have
created some holodeck programs of my own."

"And I encouraged you to
get in touch with your artistic side," muttered Janeway.

"I am grateful for your
tutelage, Captain," said Seven, yanking on the captain's wrists and hair
simultaneously, and leaning over to press her lips against the Captain's
neck.

"Computer! Privacy
lock!" gasped Janeway.

"Privacy lock activated,"
intoned the computer.

"Computer," said Seven
evenly, "begin Program Seven of Nine-3."

A medieval-style dungeon
materialized around them, with stone walls and various devices for securing
and/or torturing prisoners. Simultaneously, the bleachers where the
watchers sat turned into two elaborate thrones, side by side. "Seven?"
asked Janeway incredulously.

"I remembered . . ." began
Seven. "I remembered when I was a little girl, I used to read stories
about castles and dungeons and kings. Sometimes, I imagined I was
a prisoner in a dungeon just like this. Sometimes, I imagined I was
the gaoler. When I was assimilated, I can remember wondering if I
really was in a castle with a dungeon. But it was nothing like what
I made up. Then I forgot those . . . fantasies--the person who had
them did not exist any longer--and I remembered them only recently.
I enjoyed them. And I am going to enjoy it now."

"You never cease to surprise
me, Seven," said Janeway, with an acerbic edge to her voice.

"Captain!" declared Seven
suddenly. "I would advise you to remove your clothes now, or I will
have to rip them off you, and you would need to replicate new ones before
leaving the holodeck."

Janeway grinned and, her
voice dropping to a lower register, purred, "I'd just order you to lend
me yours, Seven," but she began pulling off her clothes. Moments
later, Seven had her bound to a heavy iron ring at the end of a chain coming
from the stone ceiling. Once she had pushed Janeway's legs apart,
the ring was the precise height for the Captain to stand comfortably.

"Nothing like a Borg for
attention to detail," murmured Q to Picard, who was riveted by the sight
of his nude fellow officer and the stunning Borg circling her at a deliberate
pace. Seven stopped behind the Captain, lightly drawing one finger
up and down her back.

"You have instructed me
in many lessons about trust, Captain. Now it is your turn to be instructed."
Seven paced briskly across the holo-dungeon to a rack and carefully selected
a leather flogger with long lashes about a half-inch wide. She walked
very slowly back to where Janeway was bound.

"She seems to be hesitating,"
whispered Picard to Q, although they wouldn't be heard even speaking aloud.

"She expects Janeway to
stop her," replied Q, "but Kathy won't do that. She made a deal,
and she'll stick to it. And anyway, she's curious about what her
Borg will do."

When the flogger whooshed
through the air behind her, Janeway flinched, expecting a solid blow, but
the lashes barely grazed her back, in a whisper of a kiss of leather against
her skin. What she and the observers soon learned was that Seven
had pinpoint accuracy and control. To Picard and Q, Seven was a study
in fluid motion, the whip an integral extension of her outstretched and
graceful arm. Q murmured, "Her control is a work of art in itself.
For Kathy, it's just like a breeze against her skin, with just an edge
of stinging rain. Now they're landing just slightly harder; the difference
is barely perceptible to human senses. Harder still, and it's like
the slap of water from a waterfall or a shower. And a little harder;
she's just now starting to feel like she's being hit with something solid.
But see the way her ass is just blushing pink. Oh, Jean-Luc, I would
have given this woman worlds, and here she is, mastered by her own pet."

"Why, Johnny, don't tell
me you're jealous of my unrequited passion for Kathryn Janeway! I'm
flattered." Q reached across and slid a hand up the inside of Picard's
thigh. That and the sudden cracking noise of a considerably harder
blow on Janeway's flesh cut off any sarcastic reply Picard might have made
in return. The flogger twirled in the air with each stroke, flashing
across Janeway's back or buttocks or thighs before executing another perfect
twirl. Seven wielded the whip with the easy confidence of a Western
gunslinger, expertly flipping his gun in one hand to drop the next bullet
into the chamber.

Janeway's buttocks weren't
the only part of her anatomy that was flushed. Q noted the shifts
in her breathing, as the exquisite flogging continued. "In case you're
wondering, Jean-Luc, she's really turned on by this." Seven was building
up to a point, steadily ratcheting up the force of her blows, although
never to a level that was truly painful. The final swing of the flogger,
and the lashes exploded across the Captain's ass. Seven carefully
returned the flogger to the rack, then returned with a much lighter and
smaller one, and administered an equally controlled whipping to Janeway's
breasts and abdomen and the front of her thighs. Each blow was more
like a light slap, than a searing burn, raising only the faintest pink
flush from the targeted areas. Janeway's nipples were taut and hard,
and both observers licked their lips, simultaneously craving to offer to
soothe and alleviate those nipples with their lips and tongues.

Instead they had to watch
Seven tormenting the Captain's breasts further. Seven carefully returned
the flogger to the rack, then returned to knead Janeway's breasts roughly,
fingers digging deep into soft flesh. Then she began teasing Janeway's
nipples, twisting and pinching them with fierce concentration. She
bent to take one in her mouth, and one hand slid between Janeway's legs,
moving slowly and deliberately. At one point, Janeway tried to grind
against the invading hand, which was immediately removed. "I am sorry,
Captain, but you will have to wait," said the Borg respectfully, and Janeway
tossed her sweaty hair impatiently off her face, her eyes burning into
her lover's form.

"You do realize that you
will pay for this, Seven!" declared the Captain.

"I am sure we will both
enjoy it, Captain," responded Seven with a shadow of a smile, her hand
still moving between Janeway's legs, while the other idly toyed with a
nipple. "I will be back in a few moments, Captain. I need to
prepare." Seven vanished into the shadows of a corner of the dungeon,
while Janeway looked after her, a half-smile quirking her lips that indicated
both surprise and delight.

The smile grew wider when
Seven returned naked, except for a black dildo in a strap-on harness.
"My she is well-built" murmured Picard to Q, his eyes flicking from
Seven's breasts to the strap-on, and back again, while Q laughed heartily
in agreement.

"Computer," said Seven.
"Lower ring to preset position." The ring to which Janeway's wrists
were bound lowered enough to let the Captain bend her knees. Seven
stepped immediately in front of Janeway. "Captain, it is time for
you to give me pleasure." As Janeway lowered her mouth to
Seven's breast, two mournful sighs escaped the observers. Q's hand
moved restlessly across Picard's lap, and Picard groaned quietly in response
as they watched the Captain of the USS Voyager twirl her tongue
repeatedly around the increasingly erect nipple of her Borg crewmember.
Seven shifted her position, so her strapped-on cock was nudging at the
point just below Janeway's triangle of dark hair, and she gasped sharply
and sucked the nipple into her mouth, intensifying her attentions.

Seven's breathing grew
more ragged, and she suddenly ordered, "Now, the other!" and Janeway immediately
complied. After some time, the Borg demanded, "Now, stop!" then moved
behind her Captain. She grasped Janeway's hips, pulling them back
slightly, then began toying with Janeway's clit and cunt with her hand.
This position afforded the grateful observers a better view, as Seven's
efficient fingers parted lips and slid along the glistening passage.
"I do not think you will require any additional lubrication, Captain,"
said Seven formally and clinically, but the smug undertone to her voice
was unmistakable.

"Yes, Captain," said the
Borg evenly. She grabbed Janeway's hips again, positioned the cock
against Janeway's cunt, and thrust it in hard.

"Oh, yes, that's a good
girl!" panted the Captain, but she was soon reduced to inarticulate groans,
as Seven drove into her with a pounding and steady rhythm. Picard
didn't even notice that his own hips were rocking against Q's hand, although
Q certainly did, both of them riveted by the sight of the blonde woman
fucking her Captain, the dildo disappearing inside Janeway, and reappearing,
glistening, before vanishing again into dark pink folds. Janeway
suddenly wailed in climax, her body convulsing.

"I thought she might be
a screamer," mused Q regretfully.

"Shut up, Q," muttered
Picard. "I'm still watching."

Seven immediately released
Janeway from her bonds, and the Captain whirled around, grabbing the Borg
by the hair, yanking it so it fell down around her shoulders. "Show
me you still know your place, Seven!" she ordered, and Seven obediently
dropped to her knees before the Captain, kissed the very apex of her dark
triangle reverently, and began servicing the Captain with her tongue.
Janeway shuddered and moaned through another orgasm, then began stroking
Seven's hair with a slightly shaky hand, saying, "I can't begin to tell
you how pleased I am with you, Seven."

As she bent to kiss her
Borg, Q remarked, "Looks like this little party's over, Jean-Luc.
Wouldn't want to overstay our welcome. Shall we move on?"

"Oh, all right," returned
Picard, "but first will you get the butter stains from your grubby fingers
off my pants?"